


before i say goodbye

by stellaviatores



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Constructed Reality, Episode Related, Episode: s01e09 Into the Forest I Go, Episode: s01e10 Despite Yourself, Foreshadowing, Horror, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Slice of Life, Time Skips, With A Twist, kind of?? this is hard to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 04:15:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13310220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellaviatores/pseuds/stellaviatores
Summary: By November the California black oaks have shed their coats, a few stubborn leaves clinging to the branches, and Paul thinks that maybe he should say something. Now, before it’s too late.Somewhere along the way, Paul has a moment of clarity.





	before i say goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> whaddup i'm gene i'm nineteen and the latest ep made me fuckin cry
> 
> title from sufjan stevens' [fourth of july](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JTeKpWp8Psw)

By November the California black oaks have shed their coats, a few stubborn leaves clinging to the branches, and Paul thinks that maybe he should say something. Now, before it’s too late.

In the next room Hugh’s preparing dinner, humming along to some song stuck in his head while he dances around like he was born to be there. He’s a natural, of course; at cooking, at living with another person, at putting up with Paul on a regular basis. He just takes it in his stride, smiling and smiling and telling Paul to relax. He doesn’t know that he does just that by simply _existing_ and Paul’s never been one with words but sometimes Hugh makes him think that maybe the universe isn’t always inclined to chaos - maybe, just now, just for him, it’s kind.

Paul leans against the window and lets his eyes drift from the street below to the rest of San Francisco in the distance. On a good day you can see the bay from their apartment: the barest glint of light against water between buildings, a glimmer that Paul won’t admit that he’s enchanted by. So sue him, he grew up in the Midwest and never saw the Pacific ocean until Hugh knocked on his dorm room door back in Alpha Centauri and asked if he wanted to come back to Earth with him. It was supposed to be a temporary reassignment until Starfleet found a junior medical position available on a starship, but they grew comfortable here. _Paul_ grew comfortable here, and that’s why Hugh’s making him dinner in their high-rise apartment instead of begging for more bandwidth to send him comms from deep space.

_Jump sixty-two. There’s a clearing in the forest -_

Paul jerks back, breathing hard.

“Dinner’s ready!” Hugh calls. There’s the banging of drawers and clink of cutlery and he’s here, in their apartment, it’s a Sunday night and Paul starts teaching subspace mechanics to a bunch of cadets tomorrow morning. He’s here. Hugh pops his head around the corner and grins. “Come on,” he wheedles, “it’s getting cold.”

- _that’s how they go_.

“Coming,” Paul mumbles, lips numb. His legs have gone to sleep from being curled up on the couch for hours and he stumbles over to the kitchen nook like he’s drunk. He feels like it. Drunk, or maybe asleep. It’s hard to tell. His vision keeps blurring, bathed in the usual warm glow of the living room and then suddenly clouding over like fog on the bay. Like he’s seeing things through a lens.

He clenches his fists and the world realigns itself. It’s Sunday night and Paul starts teaching tomorrow, but for now he’s having dinner. He’s here.

Hugh’s still humming when he approaches: something old and human, but Paul’s head aches when he tries to remember. “I made your favourite,” Hugh says, dishing alfredo into two bowls. He waits until Paul’s taken his and moved to their little dining nook before placing the pan in the sink to soak, mindful that the cream is going to stick if he leaves it to air. He’s thoughtful like that; he always has been and probably always will be.

 _I’m going to stay right by your side. It’ll be okay_.

“Hugh,” he whispers, “Hugh, you’re going to die.”

Hugh tilts his head, sitting opposite him. “Morbid, but okay,” he twirls some fettuccine onto his fork, “I’ll bite. What’s got you thinking about mortality at this hour?”

“No, Hugh, you don’t -” Paul’s tongue feels too big for his throat - clumsy, choking, constricted because he knows, he knows, he _knows_ \- “I’m serious.”

There must be something in his voice - a crack, a brittle edge - that makes Hugh frown. “I’m not going anywhere,” he says, calm as can be. Paul’s hand is shaking under the table, tiny tremors against his thigh, and he can’t blink now, he needs to stay here, he needs to _warn_ him.

“You’re going to die and I won’t be able to stop it.”

“Honey, are you feeling alright?” Hugh presses a palm against his forehead and clicks his tongue. “You’re a little hot.”

This is the part where Paul snorts and says something snarky. This is the part where they forget about Paul’s weird moment of melancholy and carry on with dinner. This is the part where they fall in bed and have incredible, gentle sex and go to sleep in each other’s arms. This is the part where Hugh wakes up early to go to his shift and kisses Paul’s cheek before he leaves because you never know what’s going to happen in a single day, you never know what’s around the corner, you never -

Paul blinks. “I’m fine,” he says. “Sorry. Ignore me.”

Hugh still looks perturbed - but then again, it could just be his neck, twisted at an angle it shouldn’t be. “You sure?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m just -” Paul laughs. “I got caught up in a daydream.”

There’s a thread of blood dribbling from the corner of Hugh’s mouth when he smiles. “Okay,” he says as the world around them collapses into light. “Okay.”

Paul smiles back and everything is light.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://mutantmeme.tumblr.com)


End file.
